


Ninety-Two Percent

by Itscalledthedistrict



Series: Shadowhunters Season 3 Drabbles [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Immortal Husbands, Light Angst, Post-Season Finale, shadowhunters 3x22
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-28 04:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18749122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itscalledthedistrict/pseuds/Itscalledthedistrict
Summary: Magnus has a bad habit of not letting people go.





	Ninety-Two Percent

Magnus has a bad habit of not letting people go. 

He’d gladly sacrifice himself before saying goodbye to someone he cares about. It’s part of the reason why moving on from Camille was so hard. It’s definitely the reason he’d closed himself off from others for centuries. Asmodeus used to say it was his only weakness. “You care too much,” he reprimanded, “that will be your downfall.” 

Asmodeus wasn’t wrong. Magnus almost exposed secrets of the Shadow World trying to save George. He gave his powers up because he couldn’t bear to see Jace become his own worst enemy. He was willing to spend an eternity in Hell to for those closest to him. He would rather suffer himself than grieve ever again. He’d done enough grieving in his long, long life. 

Things were a little different now. He knew he would never have to say goodbye to Alexander, his  _ husband,  _ who received a sliver of Lorenzo’s soul as a wedding present. Isabelle was safe as the Head of the New York Institute. Jace was the best Shadowhunter in the Midwest. Simon knew how to take care of himself. Raphael was finally living the life he’d always wanted. He saw Catarina, Madzie and even Lorenzo often and knew they were alright. Alexander always reported that Mayrse and Luke were well. Maia was the fierce leader of the New York pack. 

Eleven out of twelve isn’t bad, right? According to any scientist, a ninety-two percent success rate was fantastic. What they fail to mention, however, is that the missed eight percent is crucial. The trials weren’t perfect. You  _ failed.  _

You also can’t use statistics to justify the loss of a friend. 

Magnus stared into the mirror and watched as the young redhead set her paintings on their frames. He couldn’t deny that she looked good; she had definitely grown into the artist she was destined to be. She was successful, happy and full of light, much unlike how Magnus last saw her in person.

Magnus knew something was wrong the minute she asked him to make the portal to Toronto. He should have known the Angels were behind it. No one could have been pleased with her binding Nephilim to Downworlders. In the eyes of the Angels, Nephilim are roses and Downworlders are Popillia japonica: they only exist to kill a rose.

Magnus wished she remembered her bravery and selflessness. It would have been nice to talk to someone who understood what true sacrifice is. 

More than that; he wished he could talk to Clary. She’d been a constant in his life for sixteen years. He watched her grow up and become the woman she is. She deserved to know how proud he is of her. She deserved to know the  _ truth  _ about what happened to her mother, best friend and father. The poor child had just figured out where her place was, now she’s back at square one. 

She had her first exhibition tonight, Magnus read. She was featured in a local article. Nothing is stopping him from going. He could pretend to not know her. He could pretend to be an investor… 

… but he won’t. Magnus knows himself; he knows he wouldn’t be able to take it. He’d start crying the minute he saw Clary in person. Just like every time Jocelyn brought her into his shop, she’d ask for his name and complement his eyeliner. It would be too much. 

Asmodeus’s words echoed in his head. “You care too much.” This was the only time Magnus would ever agree with his father. 

He didn’t hear the door open. He didn’t smell dinner. He was left alone with his thoughts as Clarissa Fairchild smiled and showed off her works to different bystanders. 

Arms enveloped him in a loose embrace. Lips kissed his temple. “Magnus,” a gentle voice said, “you couldn’t have done anything to prevent this.” 

But what if he could have?

“Clary made her choice. She saved us all. She’ll always be remembered as a hero.” Magnus shut his eyes and willed the tears to go away. Arms tightened around his shoulders. “I miss her too, but we have to move on.” 

“You don’t understand, Alexander,” he muttered. 

“No, I guess I don’t.” Alec kissed his temple again. “I do know she’s happy and successful. That’s the best we could have hoped for her.” 

“She’s alone, Alec.” 

“I know. All we can do is pray to the Angel she returns to us someday.” 

Magnus put down the mirror and turned towards his husband, pulling him into his lap. “You really think that will happen?” 

“Well, I was offered the job of Inquisitor of the Clave today, so maybe.” 

Magnus furrowed his eyebrows. “They do know you’re married to a  _ warlock,  _ right?” 

Alec smiled. “Yes, and they want you to move to Alicante with me.” 

Magnus’s heart stopped. “A warlock? In Alicante?” 

“The world is changing, my dear.” Alec put their foreheads together. “Things get better every day.”

Magnus thought about it. He’d been in New York for almost a century. He was used to thinking of New York as home. New York is home to everyone he loves.  On the other hand,  New York is also full of demons and nightmares. 

Maybe a fresh start wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. 

“You don’t need to give an answer now. I-”

Magnus cut him off by kissing him deeply. From how Alec relaxed in his embrace and ran a hand through his hair, Magnus could tell he didn’t mind. 

“Home is where you are, my love,” Magnus said against his lips. “I think a change of scenery would do us well.” 

At least in Alicante, Clary wouldn’t be within a fifty mile radius. He would be much less tempted to go see her, Magnus tried to tell himself.

Magnus also knows himself; he'll never truly move on from the loss of Clarissa Fairchild. 

He’s never been good at letting people go. Caring too much will eventually be his downfall. 

**Author's Note:**

> How we feelin', Shadow Fam? Because I am... still processing.


End file.
